Proper Villains Kick Dogs
by otherhawk
Summary: Even criminals have standards and acts of kindness can have interesting consequences.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with O11. Just so we're clear.  
**

**A/N: For anyone who might be ill and ficdemanding...**

* * *

It was all a little house-that-Jack-built, to be honest. To get to Victor Florentine, they had to get to Richard Hughes, but in order to have a hope of breaking into Hughes' place, they had to get the plans. But the plans weren't listed anywhere officially, so the only hope was that the architect had them. But in order to break into the architect's place, they had to find out who the architect _was. _So in order to get to Florentine, they were now preparing to break into Richard Hughes' business manager's house to download his harddrive.

There must have been a time when things weren't quite so complicated. Some golden age when a set of lockpicks and a fake beard was all you needed. Or then again, maybe not. Certainly Rusty couldn't remember it, but then he'd slept three hours out of the last seventy two and this morning he hadn't remembered to put water in the kettle before boiling it.

Thankfully, no one except Danny knew to blame him for the five AM fire alarm. Which meant that, not for the first time, his life expectancy had been vastly increased by Danny's ability to keep a secret. Yen, particularly, had been glaring around murderously. And Frank had muttered something darkly about a spit and a hungry rotweiller. That was the point when Danny had grinned and cheerfully suggested a chihuahua. On the basis that it would take longer.

Rusty wasn't so sure he was talking to Danny any more.

Still, that had been six hours ago, and he'd had four cans of Red Bull, two bottles of Mountain Dew, three packs of M&Ms and a tootsie pop since then, and caffeine and sugar were proving to be their normal effacious replacement for sleep. Which meant he was quite happy to sit back and watch as Livingston ran through the surveillance footage they had from the camera they'd planted on Herbert Doring.

Apparently being the business manager for one of the country's richest men was quite lucrative. Certainly, from the looks of things, Herbert had a very nice house. If you liked white wall hangings and tubular steel sculptures anyway.

"Is he a plumber in his spare time?" Turk demanded.

"Nah...it's a build-your-own pipe organ kit," Rusty told him absently, and grinned at the slightly uncertain look that Turk shot him.

"Not seeing any computers yet," Livingston pointed out nervously.

"He's been in the hall and now he's in the kitchen," Danny pointed out patiently. "You know many people who keep computers in..." He trailed off, noticing the blush on Livingston's face. "Huh."

"Sometimes I like to do things while I'm cooking," Livingston explained.

Rusty frowned. "You don't cook."

"I can bake potatoes!" Livingston told him defensively. "That counts. And I can cook spaghetti and jars of sauce."

Huh. "The spicy tomato one?" he asked hopefully, suddenly feeling hungry. "With the marscapone?"

Livingston sighed. "Yeah."

Well, that was probably okay then. He grinned apologetically and turned his attention back to the monitors. Herbert was pouring himself a cup of coffee, which was kinda dull.

"Least he remembered to put water in the kettle," Danny murmured brightly.

Rusty shot him a look that said _shut up _clear as day.

The kitchen didn't seem to have any computers, it was true. Stainless steel appliances, the usual collection of inexplicable implements that every kitchen seemed to gather, a metal catfood bowl, a collection of jars...nothing interesting at all.

"I hate reality TV," Danny agreed with a sigh as Herbert drank his coffee.

Still. At least it meant he could map the house. Which was really the point of all this.

Finally Herbert went through to the living room, in which there was yet more steel and a surprising amount of white leather. Herbert put his cup of coffee down on an end table and turned the TV on.

That was annoying. If they were going to be watching him watching TV all night, that really didn't get them anywhere.

"Is that a cat?" Linus asked, sounding surprised.

He glanced at the corner of the screen, in time to see a small white cat with grey paws and ears creep out from beneath the sofa and cautiously slink towards Herbert, twining round his legs in an obvious ploy for affection or attention.

They watched in silence as Herbert kicked the cat across the floor and threw the remote control after it.

The cat vanished out the room.

"Bastard," Frank grumbled.

"Yeah...is that a laptop in the corner?" Livingston added.

They all leaned in closer to get a good look. Certainly looked like it. Lying abandoned on a footstool.

"Okay, that's one," Danny announced. "There might well be a PC somewhere else in the house though. So let's keep watching."

Rusty kept watching the door the cat had vanished out of.

* * *

Surprisingly this was one of the easiest places that Danny had ever broken into. Bearing in mind how everything _else _on this job was going, this was something of a relief. Still, he knew better than to get complacent. It was always worth bearing in mind the two people that Herbert had arranged to have disappeared on Hughes' behalf. You didn't need to carry a gun yourself to be a dangerous man.

So far though everything was going fine. Helped that Herbert wasn't in, of course. But they'd found the study without any problem and now Danny was watching Livingston download...everything, apparently...while Turk had gone off to retrieve the dry cleaning ticket and the notebook, and Rusty had volunteered to go off to find the laptop they'd seen on the surveillance footage.

That had been twenty minutes ago and now Danny was officially bored. There wasn't even a progress bar like you got in the movies. Just a lot of incomprehensible file names flickering past. Livingston seemed entranced though, which probably meant Danny couldn't suggest minesweeper.

"Found it," Turk announced, bouncing into the room and waving the notebook in the air. "Took me a while to find the jacket. Someone really needs to tell Virgil the difference between brown and grey."

"Good," Danny said, looking up at him briefly. "We're nearly done here." He was speaking more from optimism than knowledge.

"Right." Turk walked over to join him looking over Livingston's shoulder. "What's that mean?" he asked with interest, stabbing his finger at a random point on the screen.

Both of them in the room at once. Livingston's despair was palpable.

More incomprehensible file names, and a short while later Danny felt, rather than heard, Rusty walking through the door.

"You get the laptop? Or just the cat," he asked without looking round.

"What?" Turk asked slowly, sounding absolutely bewildered.

There was a pause and Danny could imagine the grin. "What do you take me for?" Rusty asked at last, his voice a perfect study in offended.

"Right now?" Danny asked, eyebrows raised. "A man with a cat in his jacket."

"_What?" _Turk asked again.

Rusty laughed and stepped forwards and when Danny turned round the smile that came his way was full of affection, and the cat was indeed tucked comfortably inside Rusty's jacket, held securely against Rusty's body.

"Very nice," he said and the resigned sigh wasn't in any way serious.

"I got everything off the laptop on USB," Rusty told him, patting his jacket pocket with his free hand.

Danny rolled his eyes. "I know." Never in doubt.

"Seriously, _what?" _Turk demanded again.

* * *

At first, no one looked round when they walked into the hotel room. There were a number of more interesting things happening, mainly what looked like some sort of epic blackjack grudge match between Saul and Reuben. Rusty's money was on Saul. He _cheated._

Looked like Linus and Virgil had got back before them. They'd been breaking into the prosecutor's office tonight. So many plates, so little air.

"You guys back?" Linus asked a moment after Saul laid down the ten of clubs and the ace of hearts.

"No," Danny said agreeably.

Linus was, unsurprisingly, undeterred. "We got the files. Except there were two labelled Outlay, so I figured we'd take both of them. One was filed where you said, Rusty, but the other was...wait, is that a _cat?_"

His voice was loud and shrill and suddenly everyone was looking their way.

Rusty looked down at the cat in his arms. "Yep," he said simply. "It's a cat alright."

"Herbert's cat?" Linus persisted incredulously.

"Yeah," Rusty agreed, walking further into the room and collapsing onto the sofa with the cat on his lap. Thing hadn't stopped purring since the first time he'd picked it up.

"Of course it is," Saul said, sounding resigned.

"Isn't that...unprofessional," Linus hazarded hesitantly.

Rusty grinned. "You questioning my professional integrity, Linus?"

"Of course not," Linus said quickly. "I mean, you went out to get an appointment schedule and you came back with a cat. I'm sure that's perfectly normal and not suspicious at all."

"If that cat's going to shed, keep it away from me," Reuben warned. "I've never had a suit yet that was improved with cat hair."

Rusty rubbed the cat's ears gently and it batted at his hand with its head and mewed happily. "Think you're safe." He looked over at Livingston. "You got anything that can check whether the cat's microchipped?"

"Uh, not _specifically..."_ Livingston said hesitantly. "But I should be able to...give me a minute."

He vanished out the door.

Danny was looking at him. "Microchipped? As in, the cat can be traced?"

"We're fine," Rusty said with a shrug. "Herbert doesn't even know he's missing yet."

"Not sure that's the point," Frank muttered.

"He is cute though, yeah?" Basher said, crouching down in front of Rusty and petting the cat cautiously.

"Yeah," Virgil agreed, leaning over the sofa.

Rusty looked over at Danny smugly. The cat had _fans._

Livingston dashed back into the room a few moments later, laden down with wires and gadgets that made Rusty wonder exactly what Livingston was building. They couldn't _all _be for the Florentine job, could they?

"Right," Livingston said distractedly, running something over the cat. It made a beeping noise. The cat just purred.

"Dude, you've got a _tricorder?" _Turk sounded impressed.

The possible-tricorder suddenly screeched and startled the cat yowled, jumped off Rusty, and tore across the room.

"Ow," Rusty said calmly, having experienced claws in a number of places he didn't particularly want to.

"Okay, the cat's got a chip," Livingston announced grimly. "And it's got GPS."

Saul reached down under the table and picked the cat up. "No," he told it sternly. "That was a bad thing to do."

Rusty had the strange feeling that Saul might just actually be slightly talking to _him._

"Okay then," he said cheerfully. "Does anyone have the number of a discreet vet?"

Everyone stared at him.

"Mate, I can honestly say the subject's never come up," Basher said, shaking his head.

* * *

As it turned out, Reuben's cousin's friend's daughter's husband was a vet who was willing to be discreet and make hotel calls. For an exorbitant sum of money, naturally.

In his life, Danny had spent too much time waiting around hotel rooms for doctors to finish their work. Somehow, a vet just didn't have the same urgency.

Took around twenty minutes, and then the vet came over to join them. "Here you go," he said, passing a piece of plastic over to Danny.

The chip, he guessed. Gingerly he handed it over to Livingston. "You want to do something clever?" he suggested.

Livingston dropped it onto the floor and ground it under his heel.

"Huh," Danny said thoughtfully. He supposed that was clever. For a certain value of clever.

"Okay, so your cat is a two year old male ragdoll," the vet told them.

Ragdoll?

"A breed of cat," Rusty murmured. "Known to be unnaturally calm, affectionate and expensive." His lips twitched. "Think I know why I like him so much."

"I am not expensive," Danny hissed back.

Rusty looked at him.

"I'm not cheap either!" Danny added, just loudly enough for Reuben to snort with laughter.

"He seems to be well fed and groomed, but he's got a few old injuries..." The disapproval in the vet's voice rang out loud and clear.

"And now he's been liberated," Rusty said calmly.

"We're like the militant wing of the RSPCA," Basher explained, incomprehensibly.

"Well, good," the vet blinked. "I think that's everything. Reuben, I'll send you my bill."

"Wait," Basher said suddenly. "The cat's a tom, right? So has he been walnutted or do we need to watch out for him?"

He was in receipt of eleven uncomprehending stares.

"Walnutted," Basher repeated impatiently. "Walnut whip. Snip."

Oh. Ow.

Eleven uncomprehending stares quickly turned into eleven winces. Danny resisted the urge to cross his legs. He was one of the few.

"Yes, I checked," the vet assured them. "Please excuse me." He walked out the door, presumably in search of clients who made more sense.

"Does the cat have a name?" Virgil asked suddenly.

"Probably," Danny nodded, looking over to where the cat was lying on the counter. They'd need to seriously scrub that. Even with the sheet the vet had put down, that had to be unhygienic. "Most pets do."

"It didn't come with a collar or anything, did it?" Virgil persisted.

Danny shook his head sadly. "Oh, I know how this works," he told Virgil gravely. "You name it, you're gonna want to keep it. You really think you're responsible enough to look after it?"

"Funny," Virgil scowled. "You know, you sound just like my Mom."

Huh. That was actually kind of a disturbing thought.

"Anyway," Virgil continued. "I wasn't suggesting I name it, I was just - "

" - his name's Zombie no. 5," Rusty cut in without looking round.

Right. Danny sighed internally.

"Is that the name that Herbert gave it?" Frank asked curiously.

"Nah," Rusty said with a grin.

"Why would you call it that?" Turk demanded.

"Don't ask!" Livingston interrupted, sounding alarmed.

"That way lies confusion," Reuben nodded seriously.

"I don't think you can just rename him like that," Linus pointed out hesitantly.

"Maybe we should rename you," Rusty said, eying Linus thoughtfully.

"I think Bobby and Molly would object," Saul said with a heavy sigh, and Linus was looking mildly alarmed.

Danny had a feeling it was time for him to step in. "Rusty stole the cat, so he can call it what he likes," he said firmly. Say it with enough certainty and it sounded like a well-established rule.

"But how will the cat know that's his name?" Linus objected.

Rusty shrugged. "Zombie?" he called.

The cat looked up at him immediately.

"Come on, Zombie," Rusty grinned. "Let's go find some food."

Leisurely, the cat jumped down off the counter and trotted at Rusty's heels.

Danny looked at Linus. "You see?"

"How come he gets to keep it," Virgil muttered sulkily.

"Cats do not split eleven ways," Danny said with a sigh.

And besides. They still had to talk about that.

* * *

It was later and there was a sofa, a bottle of wine, and a movie about dogs.

"Your cat keeps looking at me," Danny complained vaguely.

Rusty glanced down at Zombie, sat on the sofa between them. He was indeed looking at Danny. "A cat may look at a king," Rusty pointed out lazily. "Alice says so."

There was pause, apparently while Danny mulled this over. "I'm not a king," he said at last.

"No?" Rusty checked.

"No," Danny said definitely.

"Huh."

For a while there was silence.

"Your cat is still looking at me," Danny said.

"I'm training him to unnerve you," Rusty explained.

"Oh."

Seemed like it was working too.

"We going to need to find someone who wants a cat?" Danny asked after another couple of glasses had gone by. "Because I remember the last time we ran Hell in a Handbasket – "

" – twice – " Rusty interjected.

" – exactly," Danny nodded. "I think we exhausted the supply of good homes."

"I was thinking I'd keep him," Rusty said lightly.

Danny looked at him. "I was thinking you were thinking that."

He felt compelled to defend himself. "'s been a while since I had to leave town in a hurry. I'm settled now. I've got a home so why not – "

" - hey," Danny interrupted firmly. "I wasn't actually objecting."

Rusty relaxed. No matter what, Danny's approval mattered. "You said we were never doing Hell in a Handbasket again."

"Trying to rehome a cat at three o'clock in the morning while running from a hitman isn't my idea of a good time," Danny said dryly. "I also didn't object to you arranging the plan so you'd be able to rescue Zombie."

"You noticed that, huh," Rusty grinned.

Danny raised an eyebrow. "How long have I known you?"

"Forever," Rusty said contentedly.

"Uh huh." Danny looked back to the TV. "You talked to Isabel?"

"Yes," Rusty said certainly.

Danny _had _known him forever. "About the cat?"

"Subject didn't come up," he explained carefully. They'd never talked about getting a pet. It was probably a step further down the list of commitment-like things than they'd actually managed to reach.

Just because Danny wasn't actually looking anywhere near him didn't mean Rusty couldn't feel the expression.

He shrugged. "She said she liked – "

" - there are different kinds of surprises, Rus'," Danny told him with a sigh. "Besides. I'd like to get the _expensive stolen property _out of the town we stole it from."

He blinked. "You want to launder my pussy?"

Danny turned to stare at him. "Is that an actual thing or does it just _sound _obscene?" he demanded suspiciously.

Rusty grinned. "You have to ask you'll never know."

There was a loud knock at the door. They looked at each other.

"Room service?" Danny asked.

Rusty nodded. Probably. They'd ordered dessert a little while ago. Still, he carefully looked through the spyhole before he opened the door. A man with a notepad, a tray and a somewhat nervous expression. He was expecting at least two of those...

He opened the door slowly. "Thank you," he said, taking the tray.

"Ah, that will be forty dollars for the food, and I'm afraid that we do charge a fee for pets..." the guy explained apologetically. "I mean, it's you, so you know I wouldn't care, but my manager...you understand, right?"

"Of course," Rusty nodded, and he handed a credit card over with a flourish. "Take whatever you need, and add a fifty percent tip for yourself."

The guy's face lit up. "Thanks, Mr Benedict, you're the best!" he said happily.

Not paying that much attention, Rusty turned back to Danny who was staring at the TV, as the dog pulled the kid out of the burning well. "You think I should call her?"

Danny didn't say anything.

"You think I should call her," Rusty concluded. "Okay. I'll call her."

"You think you could train your cat to do CPR?" Danny wondered.

* * *

There had been a time when Isabel would have been running surveillance on clandestine operations to shift stolen goods rather than taking part in them. Of course, to her knowledge, the stolen goods in question had never involved an admittedly-adorable looking cat that allegedly answered to the name of Zombie No. 5.

Shaking her head, she got out of the car, lifting the cat carrier after her, and wandered over to meet them. He'd said they'd be waiting at the lower entrance...

Okay. So. Robert smiling at her while cradling a cat against his chest and wearing _that _suit...goddamnit, they made _calendars _out of this stuff.

She licked her lips. "So you stole a cat?"

"Liberated," he corrected her. "You like him?"

Isabel looked at the cat. The cat looked at Isabel. He looked largely like he had in the pictures Robert had sent, apparently under the impression that the animal he'd found was so adorable that no one could help but want to take him home.

She'd never had a cat before. But it wasn't like she could really say no.

"He's cute," she allowed.

Danny was smiling at her sympathetically.

"He likes smoked salmon, teriyaki chicken and California rolls," Robert told her solemnly. "Also Reeses pieces."

"Uh huh." She sighed. "I think I'll call a vet and find out what our cat _should _be eating. Maybe cat food, for instance?"

Danny shrugged. "We looked at cat food in the convenience store. There were lots of different brands and we didn't know what Zombie would like. So we went to a sushi place instead."

There was a kind of logic there she supposed. She sighed again and lifted the cat – Zombie – out of Robert's arms. Immediately, it purred and rubbed its head against her arm before settling down contentedly against her chest. Huh. She had a feeling she'd get to like the animal pretty quickly.

Robert smiled at her. "Thank you," he said softly.

"Don't go bringing home a giraffe next," she warned. "Or a chimpanzee or a gruffalo. Let's just leave it at the cat. Okay?"

He looked thoughtful. "How about a penguin?"

"No!" she said immediately.

Danny's phone rang and with a nod, he moved away to answer it.

"When will you be home?" Isabel asked quietly.

Robert sighed. "When the job's done. Soon, I think. I hope. It just keeps getting more complicated."

Yeah. She'd more or less given up trying to follow the twists and turns six weeks back. "I miss you," she told him. "Home isn't the same without someone there, stealing my chips."

"I miss you too," he said, and she could lose herself in his eyes.

Danny walked back over to them quickly, clearing his throat. "Sorry. Rus', we need to go. Apparently Frank was spotted in the herbalist, and now Turk's gonna be arrested for abducting a traffic warden."

Robert's eyes widened ."Fuck. Sorry, Isabel, we'd better go sort this out or we'll all be in trouble."

He kissed her and they ran off and she was left holding the cat.

She looked down at Zombie. "Welcome to the family," she said. "You'll get used to them."


End file.
